Dear Astrid:

You’re very welcome! I can sense the depth of your emotions in your words, and I want to acknowledge how difficult this journey has been for you. Even though it’s been around seven months since the breakup, you still experience waves of sadness that feel just as fresh as when it first happened. This is a normal part of grief, but the intensity of these emotions suggests you may still be caught between the desire for reconciliation and the search for closure, making it hard to fully accept the breakup as final.

Perhaps your emotional attachment remains strong because you ended the relationship during what you described as “a rash state of overwhelm.” If the decision was made impulsively, it’s natural to question whether it was truly the right one—regret can stem from feeling that something was undone too quickly or without full consideration. Or maybe the separation feels like a personal failure, something difficult to confront.

If you see yourself as someone who nurtures and protects relationships (“I have never ended any sort of relationship or friendship before”), walking away could feel like betraying your own values, leading to internal conflict.

If your friendship or relationship was deeply tied to your identity, stepping away might feel like losing a part of yourself, leaving you uncertain about how to redefine your life without that connection. That kind of transition is incredibly challenging.

If any of these thoughts resonate with you, I’d love to read your reflections. No matter where you are in this process, your emotions are valid, and you deserve the time and space to navigate them in a way that feels right for you.

anita

Dear Davina:

Thank you for sharing something so personal. You wrote with such honesty, and it’s clear you’ve spent time trying to understand not just your relationship—but yourself.

There’s something incredibly brave about asking, “Why do I feel this way when nothing is wrong?” Because what you have sounds beautiful: a partner who’s loving, generous, emotionally available, and willing to grow with you. It makes sense that the doubt feels confusing—even guilt-inducing. But doubt doesn’t always mean something’s broken. Sometimes it’s a sign that you’re listening—not to a problem, but to a question that’s still taking shape inside you.

This duality—wanting the emotional thrill vs. needing deep, steady love—is something both your therapists have touched on. The dilemma, as I see it: the fear of choosing safety and later mourning the absence of passion, or worse—choosing passion and realizing too late that you’ve let go of a truly good man.

You’re not ungrateful or cold-hearted. You may simply still be in the process of rewiring what love feels like. After surviving toxic relationships where love came with drama or instability, it’s natural that something calm—even healthy—might feel unfamiliar. Less “exciting,” maybe. Less known. And that unfamiliarity can feel like something’s missing, even when your partner is doing everything “right.”

What I hear beneath it all is your integrity. The fact that you’re reflecting before acting—the way you’re trying to spare him pain, even as you hold your own confusion—tells me how deeply you care. About him, and about the kind of life you want to live with honesty.

This is what I posted to Elle (the original poster of this thread) back on January 27, 2016: “My advice is for you to explore and get an understanding of what happened and what is going on with you first. It will not be fair for him that you follow your current feelings for him when you don’t understand what is going on.”

And so—nine and a half years later—I offer the same advice to you: take time to gently explore what’s happening within you. I wonder… growing up, was one of your parents—or both—emotionally distant or critical? Did a quiet hope begin in your heart back then, a passion to one day turn an emotionally unavailable person into someone loving?

With warmth and respect, Anita

Dear Davina:

You’re very welcome.

Reading your response, I was struck by how much clarity and emotional honesty you’re already holding—even in the middle of uncertainty. You’re not running from the truth—you’re circling it, slowly and bravely. That matters.

I think it’s wonderful that you and your partner are considering couples therapy. That step alone speaks volumes about the care and seriousness with which you’re both approaching your future.

In the meantime, something you might find helpful is this: try journaling (privately or even here)—not the polished, reflective kind, but something freer, looser. Let your thoughts spill. Set a timer and describe—without judgment—the kind of relationship that would truly thrill you. Not necessarily with a real person. Just let your imagination go.

What does that kind of love feel like in your body? What kinds of conversations, tensions, moments of passion or uncertainty show up? Is there chaos? Silence? Hunger? Laughter?

Let it pour out unfiltered—no editing, no evaluating. Just write as if no one will ever read it but your own curiosity.

You don’t need to figure it all out at once. This isn’t about rushing to a decision—it’s about becoming someone who sees herself clearly, so that the decision, when it comes, feels like home instead of a coin toss.

If you do feel like sharing anything that comes up in the process—whether poetic, messy, angry, tender, confused, or all of the above—I’ll meet it with care.

With warmth, Anita 🕊️